


Sign of the Times

by raisedbymoogles



Series: Robots Resist [5]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Current Events, Gen, March for Our Lives, resist, shameless catharsisfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:52:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14078289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbymoogles/pseuds/raisedbymoogles
Summary: The calvary is here and they are smol.





	Sign of the Times

The crowd in D.C. was an interesting mix that day. Busloads of high-schoolers from across the country, some of them skipping school to be here and others under suspension for protesting in their home states, rubbed shoulders with locals and protest veterans old enough to be their parents or grandparents - a welcome change from their actual parents and grandparents, for too many of them. _Not all adults don’t give a crap if we die._

Marissa Fairborne was one of the youngest she met that day, not yet _in_ high school, and one of the few to actually be here in the _company_ of her parents. But both of her parents had work to do, the kind they couldn’t tell her about, so they handed her her painstakingly hand-drawn sign (“Sailor Moon Says: Justice Is Worth Fighting For”) and sent her out. “Make some friends,” Mom told her warmly. “And keep your phone charged.”

“I’ll be fine!” Marissa protested, but her backpack had two portable chargers in it, one of which she loaned to a kid with Coke-bottle glasses who’d been playing Pokémon Go all the way from his hotel. “Cool sign,” he grinned at her. “Call me Malcom.” And just like that Marissa was folded into an overlapping network of social media handles and shared snacks. Some of their signs, like Marissa’s, referenced old cartoons that made them feel safe or inspired or both; some were spins on popular memes. A few were more direct, blocky pleas in bold marker: _no more Decepticons. No more guns. No more war, no more fascism, no more selling our futures for nothing!_

_Stop killing us!_

They surged onto the National Mall, Marissa with an honor guard of older teenagers keeping her from getting lost. She took pictures of signs that made her laugh and sent a few to her parents. She could barely see the Capitol building over the crowds, but she was willing to bet the Congresspeople in the Capitol building could see them. _“You better be watching!”_ she shouted, and lifted her sign up high as she could.

A blast of sound like a bomb going off ripped the sign out of her hands and sent her toppling. Someone grabbed her, curling around her smaller form as they went down. Over the ringing in her ears she heard, _“In the name of the Decepticons, you are ordered to disperse!”_ and a series of thuds that shook the ground.

Marissa’s protector turned out to be Malcom, gray-faced with blood trickling out of his eardrum. He let her pull free of his arms, and she staggered to her feet. Around her, the blast radius of that sonic weapon was easy to see by the wide semicircle of people in the crowd who’d collapsed or who were just struggling up. At its epicenter: two Decepticons, their badges blazed across wide-set wings.

“Thundercracker,” she hissed. “And Skywarp.”

“What?” mumbled Malcom.

“How do you know their names?” demanded one of his friends, holding a hand to the side of his head.

Marissa didn’t answer - that was classified information. “Hey!” she yelled. “We still have freedom of assembly, glitchface!”

Thundercracker’s disgruntled face only deepened, optics hooded below the edge of his helmet. It was Skywarp who felt the need to respond, leering in her direction. “You get what we say you get, meatbag.”

“Quiet.” Thundercracker snapped a glare at Skywarp before turning a dour expression to the marchers. “In the name of the Decepticons,” he recited again, “you are ordered to disperse. Comply or be destroyed.”

The crowd began to move again, torn between panic and anger, and Marissa knew which side she fell on. Malcom made a grab for her and missed as she flung herself forward, arms outspread as if she could shield everyone with her own body.

“We’re not going anywhere!” she screamed, and her voice rivaled the sonic weapon that had flattened them all. “This is our world, not yours anymore!”

“Yeah, comply _this,_ asshole!” hollered someone behind her, and the vicious hiss of _this_ gave her a pretty good idea of what the speaker’s hands were doing.

That opened the floodgates. Shouts of anger and mockery flooded the air, and Marissa was watching as Skywarp’s expression turned from smug to baffled. “Uh, TC…”

Thundercracker sighed through every vent, rubbing between his optics with two fingers. “I hate my job,” he muttered, and lifted his arms. The sunlight gleamed off his arm-mounted weaponry and Marissa’s rage died in her throat, only now realizing that even if her death sparked change in the world, she _did not want to die yet._

_Mom…! Dad…!_

She thought she screamed, the sound lancing through the air, but - no, it was the scream of a high-performance engine pushed to the red edge of its performance capacity, flinging itself into battle. Skywarp teleported in sheer startlement and Thundercracker staggered, hit in the face with the full weight of a red, orange, and yellow Lamborghini.

As Thundercracker toppled, the Lamborghini landed and transformed. “You heard the little lady, Decepticreep,” he crowed. “Free assembly is the right of all sentient beings!”

“What the slag,” Thundercracker protested dizzily, dragging himself up off the steps of the Smithsonian.

“Holy shit, it’s an Autobot,” Marissa heard someone blurt out. That stung her into action and she darted forward again, skidding to a halt behind the Autobot’s ankle.

“Excuse me!” she called. “Hi! Do you mind if I film you?” She waved her cell phone. “I’m Marissa, I’m with the resistance!”

The Autobot spared a glance over his shoulder at her, as from the museum buildings surrounding the Mall more Autobots made themselves known and Thundercracker’s expression sank into the realization that he was about to have a very bad day. “Just find someplace safe first,” he advised, “and yeah, film all you want! Nice to meet you, Marissa with the resistance - my name’s Hot Rod.”

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this in a hurry because I'm going to a march soon! Please forgive any errors.
> 
> This might be the last Robots Resist fic unless I get inspired again. Not sure I can top this.


End file.
